


all i want for christmas is you

by falloutmars



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: -spoiler- first date and kiss, Alternate Universe, Colleagues - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, driving home for christmas together au, soft christmas fluff, there's traffic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28267707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falloutmars/pseuds/falloutmars
Summary: Because her new co-worker also happened to still have family situated in Riverdale and she may or may not have wanted the excuse to spend uninterrupted time with him during the four-hour drive they could have together if she offered to give him a lift back to their shared hometown even though she never came across him when she grew up there, though how she didn’t know him bemuses her.Which she did. Offer. And he accepted. Which is where they are now.–or, there's traffic on the drive home for Christmas.
Relationships: Betty Cooper & Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 22
Kudos: 79
Collections: 8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	all i want for christmas is you

**Author's Note:**

> eep welcome to my second and final Christmas fic. i hope you enjoy this one. it's a little longer than the first but still fluffy and hopefully cute :')

The traffic on the highway scales back as far as the eye can see. There hasn’t been any movement in at least ten minutes, and the distant sound of beeping horns starts to piss Betty off. 

“Fuck’s sake,” she mutters to herself, her fingers tapping the steering wheel in an attempt to calm herself. She gets it; people are pissed at being stuck in traffic. She really does get it. Hell, she’s pissed too. But she’s more pissed off at people being noisily pissed off than she is at being stuck in traffic. They’re trying to get out of New York City on Christmas Eve; of course there’s fucking traffic. 

And now part of her wishes she would’ve just told her family to fuck off when they invited her to spend the holidays—usually her favorite time of the year, now she’s not so sure—with them in Riverdale. Why is she choosing Riverdale instead of New York City? Why, oh, why? 

“You okay there, Betty?” a voice to the right of her says in a mildly amused but mostly concerned tone.

Oh right. Yeah. Because her new co-worker also happened to still have family situated in Riverdale and she may or may not have wanted the excuse to spend uninterrupted time with him during the four-hour drive they could have together if she offered to give him a lift back to their shared hometown even though she never came across him when she grew up there, though how she didn’t know him bemuses her.

Which she did. Offer. And he accepted. Which is where they are now. 

Because she likes him, perhaps more than she should of a new co-worker. (It’s the hair. It’s definitely just the hair and not just his entire existence that’s making her feel this way.)

But… it’s turning out to be more than four hours. And four hours with a very good-looking guy you barely know turns out to be only slightly more awkward than she’d hoped. 

She glances over to her right but quickly looks back to the road as if she’s actually moving more than an inch in the past half-hour. “Fine,” she tells him with less conviction than she wants. 

“Hopefully it won’t take long,” he offers in what she _knows_ is an attempt at comforting her, but all she can do is get more pissed off because this is fucking New York City and it’ll take _ages_.

It’s a wonder if they’ll get back in time for Christmas at this point.

She decides to keep her mouth shut. If she doesn’t, she’ll probably snap at him and it really isn’t his fault. She likes him; she doesn’t want to upset him this early into their journey. 

Instead, she fiddles with the radio, trying to tune it into a local station to see if this really is just holiday traffic. 

A hand covers her own, gently pushing it out of the way. “Here, let me.”

She looks over at him again and smiles. “Thank you, Jughead.”

Betty met Jughead at work just a few weeks ago. For her, it was instant attraction, but she’s never been the bravest person when it comes to dating and romance, so when she found out he’d been planning on going _home_ to Riverdale for the holidays, it seemed like a good option to offer to carpool. He took up her offer with a grateful smile that made her melt in all the right ways.

But it wasn’t until the day before their quote-unquote road trip when she realizes she didn’t actually _know_ Jughead. Sure, he’s from Riverdale. He grew up on the Southside while she lived on the North, hence why they never crossed paths until they both ended up working for the same coffee shop in the city. But that’s about it. 

She guessed their journey together would be the perfect time to get to know him if she weren’t so goddamn pissed off.

He tunes in to BA-FM almost immediately and turns it up.

_“...traffic on the I-729 upstate looks to be an hour minimum until any movement. Stay turned for the latest on…”_ the static, monotonous voice says.

Betty just turns it back down and groans, throwing her head onto the top of the steering wheel. All she wants is to be at home. Her shoebox apartment in the city would be fine, Riverdale would be even better. Just anywhere but here in her age-old car she triple-checked before they left, though now she’s doubting her own mechanical abilities, wondering if the car will make it upstate. 

Jughead’s hand on her upper back pulls her out of her slump. “It’s alright,” he tells her in a soft voice as his hand moves in slow circles. “At least you’re not alone.”

It’s hard to be pissed _at_ him when his movement is calming her beyond belief. It’s hard not to take her pissed-off-ness out on him, but she takes a deep breath in, holding it for a few seconds, before she breathes out through her mouth, pulling her hand up. 

She looks over at him and smiles, his hand still resting on her back. “I needed that.”

He nods knowingly. “You’re stressed.”

Letting out a breathy laugh, she flicks the key to turn off the engine, letting her car’s roar be silenced. “How could you tell?”

He shrugs almost sheepishly, ducking his head and ripping his gaze from hers and his hand in the process. 

She mourns the loss of his warmth but instead tugs on the front of her hoodie so she can do the zipper up. “Why does Mary make us work such long hours?” 

“Because she’s the devil,” he says as an explanation. He says it with such certainty that Betty wonders for a moment if he’s actually onto something before they both burst out laughing. She’s pleased for the stress relief if anything. Laughter is the best medicine and all that.

“Christmas Eve is _awful_.” Betty sighs at the memory of her day. It was so _busy_. She didn’t realize so many people needed gingerbread lattes and orange hot chocolates on Christmas Eve. Why did she work for a coffee shop again? She should’ve chosen that quaint bookstore a few blocks away instead, though she’d guess that’d be just as busy. Last-minute gifts and everything.

She supposes the one saving grace of her day was working with Jughead. He’s always so much calmer than she is, taking and making orders effortlessly despite the busyness of the shop. It’s something she’s admired about him from afar, in between dealing with annoying customers in her stressed state, so he’s been a calming influence during the Christmas rush.

Doesn’t mean the general holiday period hasn’t sucked, though.

He hums his agreement. “We made it though, huh?”

She bobs her head from side to side. “If by ‘made it’ you really mean getting stuck in the world’s longest traffic congestion, then yes.”

“World’s longest?” he scoffs. “Barely. We’ll make it out of the city in no time at all, just you watch.”

“I never took you for an optimist, Jughead Jones.”

–

Fifteen minutes later, they haven’t moved even an inch. Betty’s starting to think that Jughead was only bullshitting her to make her feel better, though she thinks that with all due credit because it worked. Well, sort of. For fifteen minutes. Now she’s not even pissed, she’s just bored. 

Okay, she’s still slightly pissed.

There hasn’t been any great flirting between them yet, although she and her bad moods are probably to blame for that. It’s just, this isn’t what she wanted for this trip and now she’s wondering why she bothered. She’s definitely not looking forward to a Cooper Christmas, and she’s too annoyed to test the waters with Jughead.

She sighs. “Can I turn around? I’ll pay for your train home or something, I just want to–”

“Betty,” he says calmly, and she lets out a shaky breath. Curse him and his ability to stay calm under pressure. “You’re in the middle lane of a highway, I don’t think you can turn around.”

Despite what she’d expect, his voice isn’t filled with teasing tones or laced with any _poking fun at her_. In fact, he sounds sincere, caring even. 

“Oh yeah,” she says, dumbfounded and distracted by him yet again. “I want to go home.”

He nods, and she notices his hand moving towards her out of the corner of her eye, but as she turns to properly look at him, he snatches it back as if he’s thought better of it. “Riverdale or New York?” 

She just shrugs and moves her gaze back to the road in front of her. The vast number of vehicles in front of her makes her want to scream, but Jughead’s presence minimizes that want, strangely enough.

After a moment of silence, he speaks again. “Hey, uh, I just realized I don’t know what brought you to New York from Riverdale?”

When she meets his eyes, she smiles. Seems like _he_ decided to jump on the ‘getting to know you’ cart before she did, but she’s happy about it. “It’s always been a dream of mine to live here. I guess it’s my personal American Dream.”

“Mine too,” he tells her, and there’s a glint in his eye when he says it. “At Southside High– I mean, you must’ve heard the stories–” he pauses, and she nods sheepishly “–they don’t exactly push for college applications. My dad has always been adamant on me being–” he imitates an older man “–the first Jones to go to college.”

Betty cuts him off from laughing at his impression. “I’m sorry,” she says once she stops. “That was amazing. I feel like I _know_ your father now.”

He’s smiling, but he shakes his head. “You probably already do,” he says, and she sends him a confused look, furrowed brows and head tilted to the side. “Oh! He’s the sheriff of Riverdale.”

As soon as he says it, Betty’s eyes widen in recognition. She knows him. Sheriff Jones. Everyone knows him. She really doesn’t know how she missed that connection. “That… makes a lot of sense.”

He lets out a soft laugh. “In good ways only, I hope.”

She’s grinning at him when she nods, feeling lighter and significantly less awkward than when this journey began. All thanks to Jughead breaking the ice and dragging her out of her pissed off state, she realizes. 

“So you got to college?” she asks.

“Yep. First Jones, definitely not the last. I went to NYU, and my youngest sister has just been offered a place at Yale.” He pauses to glance out the window and smile to himself. “Seems like the Southside has really been cleaned up.”

Betty nods knowingly. “Mayor Blossom has done a great job,” she says, unable to maintain composure. “Okay, she’s my cousin. Her girlfriend is–”

“Toni Topaz,” Jughead cuts off. “My best friend since elementary school.”

She blinks in disbelief as if the whole world is about to disappear in front of her eyes. This has got to be too good to be true, right? Surely their lives can't have been _this_ intertwined with one another without either of them realizing it. The universe must be playing a trick on them…

He nudges her with his elbow, pointing in front of them. “Hey, look. We’re moving.”

–

They move a total of three car lengths until they’re stopped again and haven’t moved since. It would be getting increasingly annoying if the company wasn’t so great. Which, now they’re properly talking, it really is. 

As it so happens, they have a lot more in common than just their hometown. 

To start with, there’s Cheryl, Betty’s cousin, and Toni, Jughead’s childhood best friend, being married. Then there’s Archie Andrews, Betty’s best friend’s boyfriend, also somehow being Jughead’s friend thanks to Fred Andrews and FP Jones’s life-long friendship. 

Then, moving on from connections of _people_ , they both _like_ similar things. Jughead’s an aspiring author and Betty’s an aspiring book reviewer. Both writing and reading focused, they spend an obscene amount of time talking about books, while they continue to not move another inch along this highway of hell. 

And just so the universe can throw another curveball at them, it turns out they both applied for (and failed to get) jobs at that quaint bookstore Betty was reminiscing about earlier. So that’s what ended them both at the coffee shop. 

“We could’ve been working together surrounded by _books_!” Betty exclaims. “Instead it’s taken us all this time to even realize we’re into the same things!”

He laughs. “I know, I know, but I just _love_ making four hundred lattes a day.”

Her groan turns into a giggle. “You know, I’m surprised Mary doesn’t have us working on Christmas day.”

“And she gave us both the same days off,” he points out. 

“Wait, are you due back on the 27th too?” She completely forgot—until that moment—that they never arranged anything for the way back. Sure, she offered to _take_ Jughead to Riverdale, and she sure as hell doesn’t mind dropping him back too, but she never thought to… ask. How he knew her knew shift is beyond her. Or, well, that is until he tells her. 

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Sorry, I saw on the rota that we’re both in together.”

A flicker of a smile crosses her face. “Opening, right?”

Nodding, he groans. “My least favorite shift.”

“Definitely. I hate dealing with all the stressed commuters.”

“How many lattes do these people want?” he says with a laugh, shyly adding, “But at least you’re there to suffer with me.”

The sentiment baffles her. His soft voice, the slight twinkle in his eye, the tiny smile on his face. It’s all so… _real_. Her attraction to him before this was evident, a crush at best, but with every minute spent with him, it’s turning into something else. Something _more_.

She pushes that thought away, instead sending him a smile back. “Like you need me,” she scoffs, “when you’re so chilled all the time.”

“Internalized stress, Betty.”

She lets out a faux outraged gasp. “Are you telling me that commuters _do_ get to you?”

He’s grinning when he nods. “And you’re the ever-calming presence in my life.”

“I could say the same for you,” she shoots back.

–

Half an hour later, they’ve fallen into quite the rhythm. Betty gets distracted by something Jughead says or does, smiling at him like an idiot, while he elbows her to move forward when there’s a break in the traffic. Which, in all fairness, has only happened twice so far, so it’s hardly a pattern.

Nevertheless, Jughead starts telling her about what’s in store for him over the next two days. 

Apparently, it’s a Jones tradition to _not_ eat a traditional Christmas dinner. None of them particularly like it, so they gave it up years ago. Instead, Pop Tate makes a special delivery to their house on the Southside at exactly midday consisting of an abundance of greasy diner food. Fries, burgers, hot dogs, grilled cheeses, onion rings, anything you could imagine really.

“It sounds idyllic,” Betty says with a wistful sigh. Because it truly does. She doesn’t care for a traditional dinner, but of course Alice Cooper does. “Better than what I have to deal with, anyway.” She looks out to the blocked highway in front of her, wondering what she has to do to get in on that tradition.

“It’s great,” he grins, then lets his face fall into a sympathetic smile. “What’s your day looking like then?”

She tells him about the Cooper traditions: every family member, distance or not, will come around. They’ll exchange one gift before lunch, and by the time more gift-giving comes around, Alice is stressed beyond belief, and everyone else is two bottles in, off their heads. There are crackers imported from the UK because _that’s tradition, Betty_ , and more lights than she can even explain. Except this year, it’s different. Her Christmas will consist of just her and her parents, so to be honest, she doesn’t know what to expect. 

She ends her story with, “Not as great as yours, but you’ll have to come and see the lights.”

His face _lights_ up. “I’d love to.”

“When we get out of this lot–“ she shifts in her seat, gesturing to the endless stream of traffic in front of them “–we can take a quick trip to mine.” She pauses, trying to gauge his reaction, before rushing, “If you want, that is.”

“That’d be great, Betty,” he says in that gentle-but-firm voice she’s come to adore. And to top it all off, he leans over and places his hand on hers—the one that’s resting on the shift stick ready in case they need to move.

She feels her entire face heat up at the gesture. How can one person make you feel so much in such a short amount of time? 

Clearing his throat, he pulls his hand away. “That’s _if_ we get home,” he jokes lightly, and she forces out a laugh.

“What happened to ‘Mr. Positivity’?” She does the air quotes with her fingers, grinning as she does so. 

He rolls his eyes affectionately. “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong person.”

Her eyes fixed on his, she barely notices the moving traffic around them, and to be honest, she wishes they could stay still for longer. But then he’s elbowing her and pointing forward, so she’s shifting into gear and driving off alongside all the other cars.

This time, they’re off. They don’t stop again, though they do slow down every so often, until the last stretch before exiting into the wilderness. It’s only a brief pause, but it’s long enough for Betty to glance over at Jughead. 

He’s looking back at her with admiration in his eyes, and he whispers, “Thank you for driving me.”

She wants to reply, telling him she’s glad she offered, she’s happy to have him here—because she is, she really is despite their slightly awkward start—but a car behind her is beeping its horn, so her eyes are pulled away from him.

–

About half an hour outside of New York City and the roads are now clear. They’re driving through a small town they’ve never heard of in comfortable silence when Betty fumbles for the auxiliary cord whilst trying not to steer into the sidewalk. 

“What are you doing?” Jughead asks, amused.

She returns her hand to the steering wheel. “I’ve lost the aux cable.”

Out of the side of her eye, she can see him looking around for it. After approximately just ten seconds, he pulls it out from underneath him. “Got it.”

She laughs. “Wasn’t that uncomfortable?” 

He stays quiet at first, fiddling with the wire between his fingers, before he bursts out laughing. “I’m sorry,” he says between breaths, “I’m not saying anything.”

Taking her eyes off the road for a second, she shoots him a dirty look. 

“What?” he asks in faux shock.

“I know your type.” 

He lets out a small laugh though she can tell he’s trying to keep a straight face. “There is absolutely nothing crude about sitting on an auxiliary cord, Betty.”

“If you say so.” She grins. “And whilst you’re there, put on some Christmas songs.”

The loud groan he lets out causes the whole car to shake. “No way.”

“I’m driving,” she counters.

He protests anyway. “And I’ve worked in a coffee shop over the holiday period so if I have to hear _Last Christmas_ one more fucking time…”

They come to a stop at some traffic lights, so she looks over at him, a cheesy grin covering her face. “Hey! So did I!”

Holding his hands up, he slumps back in his seat. “I’ve been defeated.”

“Great!” She pulls off smoothly, following Google Maps to the letter in turning right. “So, _Last Christmas_ , please.”

Without any more protests, he connects his phone and puts on a song. She’s smiling happily to herself until the first notes of a song that definitely isn’t Last Christmas.

_“Somebody once told me, the world is gonna roll me…”_

“Jughead!” she exclaims, leaning over to playfully punch him in the arm. 

“What?” he says innocently. “This is my favorite Christmas song.” He starts muttering the words under his breath, bobbing his head to the beat.

She attempts to pull the cord from her car, but his hand stops her. If she wasn’t driving, she’d want to look over at him, perhaps say something stupid, make a joke, and she’d smile. But instead, her hand is flying back to the wheel, swerving out of the way of the curb. 

“Fuck,” she mutters as she steers them back on track. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ll, uh, I’ll put _Last Christmas_ on.”

–

They reach traffic again in Albany. It’s been over four hours since they left the city, so it’s dark now. Almost nine in the fucking evening and they’re meant to be in Riverdale by now. Betty would’ve either already had enough of her family and be hiding out in Pop’s or had begged Veronica to invite her out. 

Well, Veronica won’t be here this year, so maybe she would’ve twisted Cheryl’s arm.

Instead, she’s stuck in traffic again. (Company could be worse though.)

“We should’ve been back in Riverdale by now,” she says with a sigh as they come to a stop _again_. Somehow Albany is just as busy as NYC, but so far they haven’t been stopped for more than a few minutes.

“You’re saying that like that would’ve been a good thing.”

She glances over at him, meeting his eye for a second. “You don’t like Riverdale?”

He shrugs noncommittally. “You?”

“I used to,” she tells him as she moves forward another few meters. “I guess it’s…”

He finishes for her, “Complicated?”

She lets out a breathy laugh. “You could say that.”

A moment of silence falls over them. Betty doesn’t try to fill it, instead getting caught up in her own thoughts of her hometown and trying to focus on slowly moving through the streets of Albany.

“I never wanted to go back,” he says quietly.

If she could look over at him, she would, but the lights of the cars are blinding and she can’t seem to drag her eyes away, so she just whispers, “Me neither.”

“We’re doing it together, right?”

As she swallows thickly and forces out, “Right,” he stretches across to cover her hand with his. It’s just for a moment, a comforting gesture, but when he pulls it away, she feels the loss more than she should.

He lets out a fake-sounding cough. “I think it’s got better since we left though.”

She understands what he’s referring to. They’d already touched on it briefly, but she can’t help but wonder out loud, “Do you think things could’ve been different?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, and she signals left as per Google Maps’ instructions, moving through a green light into more traffic. 

“The North and South sides were so… split back then.” She sighs to herself, debating whether going down this path is a good idea or not, but she can’t seem to stop herself. “I never came into contact with anyone from Southside High. Even in Pop’s, everyone had their groups and their tables. We didn’t mix then.”

His face flickers with a sad smile. “That’s what they wanted,” he says, and it’s the truth. Mayor Lodge wanted that split between the two halves, so things got messy. Depravity, deprivation, it all happened. Jughead says as much. 

“But now…” Betty trails off, thinking of her Northside cousin, Cheryl, and her Southside girlfriend, Toni, being in office. 

Jughead finishes for her. “They’re making a difference.”

“So could things have been different?” she asks again. In the background, _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ starts to play. She resists the urge to turn it up, and any thought in her brain turns to Jughead.

He lets out a breathy laugh. “Sorry, I still don’t follow.”

_Fair enough_ , she thinks, and tells him, “If we would’ve grown up having, I don’t know, even _some_ contact. Would we have been friends or…?” She trails off once more, pushing down thoughts of _or more_ out of her head. 

There’s a distinct fondness in his voice when he replies, “Are you still on that _this is a sign from the universe_ crap?”

She wonders how he knew she was thinking that, but decides to leave it. “Hey! It’s not crap.”

Smiling, he shakes his head. “In answer to your question, I’d like to say so.”

She risks a glance at him, flashing him a smile. “I guess we’ll never know.”

–

Traffic eases after Albany and they’re on the final stretch to Riverdale. Time begins to fly just as they do along the ever so familiar road through the dark wilderness of upstate New York. 

Music blaring, the windows are down and the heater is blasting at them. Betty yells the lyrics to the fifth _Last Christmas_ in the last hour as Jughead sits slumped down in his chair, arms crossed in retaliation but a huge grin on his face.

The roads around them are mostly empty now, lit only by the car’s headlights. Usually, driving in the dark would bother Betty, but with Jughead, she thinks anything would be possible. 

They’re making good progress. It’s half ten at night, so most of the traffic getting into Riverdale should have eased, and their ETA is forty-five minutes time. 

Part of Betty wouldn’t mind more traffic. She doesn’t want her time with Jughead to end. After overcoming the initial awkwardness, everything just fell into place so effortlessly. He’s… amazing, she thinks.

She turns the music down when it changes songs and continues driving at speed. “We should go to Pop’s,” she says with a confidence she wishes she felt.

“Like now? Tonight?”

She’d meant before they left for the city again but decides to indulge him. “Sure, if you want.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him grinning. “On a date?” he asks, hopeful.

“I thought signs of the universe didn’t mean anything,” she teases.

“Oh, no, Betty. They _definitely_ do.”

–

They reach Riverdale ten minutes before their ETA. It’s after 11 p.m. on Christmas Eve, and the majority of _The Town With Pep!_ are fast asleep. Children are waiting for Santa, adults knocked out by alcohol, all awaiting a magical day tomorrow as snow begins to fall.

The one place still open is Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe, an American diner that is the heart of this small town.

So Betty doesn’t drive the extra ten minutes across town to drop Jughead in his Southside home, nor does she drive via Elm Road to the street and the house she has lived in for as long as she can remember. Instead, she stops halfway between the two, and parks outside the red neon sign of the diner. 

A few miles away, Jughead had fallen asleep. She can’t blame him, really, so all she did was turn down the music and let him relax. He’d missed the entry sign into Riverdale, but she’d guessed he wouldn’t mind, so she left him. 

Now she’s parked up in Pop’s, she turns to him and taps his shoulder. “Jug,” she says, letting the nickname slip out without so much as a second thought. “We’re here.”

As he begins to wake up, a sleepy smile spreads across his face. She watches as he slowly opens his eyes only to be met with a neon red instead of his house on the Southside. “Are we– _Pop’s_?”

She grins. “Yep.”

“Betty Cooper,” he murmurs as he runs his hand through his hair, knocking his ever-present beanie off of his head. “You are my hero.”

She feels a blush cover her face, but the red light flooding them means it can’t be seen. “Let’s get you fed.”

–

Pop Tate seems shocked when he sees them walk in together. Betty can’t work out whether it’s because they’re _together_ , because it’s _them_ , or because it’s past 11 p.m. on Christmas Eve. Perhaps a mix of all three. 

Despite that, though, he’s happy to see them. 

The diner is almost empty, except for a couple in the far corner and a lone man sitting at the counter. It’s no one Betty recognizes, so she breathes an internal sigh of relief. 

“What brings you two here?” Pop asks in his familiar, comforting voice. 

Betty looks over at Jughead, meeting his eye immediately. They share a short eyes-only conversation that ends in two small nods. It’s when she realizes how good their communication is from working endless rush-hour shifts at the coffee shop together. All it takes is a quick look. 

“It’s a date,” Jughead says with a smile. “A date of sorts.”

“He followed me to the city for this,” Betty jokes, and they all laugh.

Pop furrows his eyebrows. “The city, you say?”

She didn’t realize—well, she’d never thought about it—that Pop didn’t know about their whereabouts, so she launches into the shortened version of the story of how she ended up in New York City working with someone from Riverdale. Pop listens intently as Jughead adds in little bits about his life too. 

“That’s one hell of a story,” he says once they reach where they are now, and he winks. “One to tell the kids.”

Betty freezes but Jughead just laughs. “Honorary Tate’s, I’m sure,” he grins, nudging her with his shoulder. 

“Definitely,” she adds.

“Well then. You two better find a booth and I’ll take your orders.”

–

“This place is still amazing,” Betty mutters through a mouthful of cheeseburger. She isn’t usually one for excessively greasy diner food, but Pop’s has always been the only exception.

Jughead laughs as he dips a fry in ketchup. “This alone is worth coming back to Riverdale.”

She swallows her bite. “You think Pop would let us stay here?”

“Are you trying to avoid the wrath of Alice Cooper, Betty?”

She shoots him a fond look. “Always.”

“I know the feeling,” he mumbles into his handful of fries, but she decides to let it go. This, after all, is meant to be a date, not a loathing contest. 

Once she finishes her burger, she takes a long sip of chocolate milkshake. She always used to prefer vanilla, but Jughead egged her on into trying something new, so chocolate—his favorite—it was. And it’s good; it’s really good. She doesn’t regret following his advice, and that goes for more than just the milkshake. 

When she’s sure he’s distracted enough with his (second) burger, though his eyes never seem to leave her, she quickly shoots her arm across the table and takes an onion ring from her basket. There’s a grin on her face as she does it, and she forgoes any condiment to stuff it into her face quicker than he can stop her.

“Cooper!” he scolds in a loud voice, though the fondness on his face suggests he’s not truly mad. (Did she ever doubt it?) His voice does, however, alert the attention of Pop. Luckily for them, the couple in the corner have giggled their way out of the door, and the man sitting at the counter seems to be deep in thought as he stares into his bottomless coffee, so it’s just Pop.

There’s a look of pride on his face as he wanders over to them. “Is everything okay, kids?” 

Jughead folds his arms like a child, poking out his bottom lip. “She stole an onion ring.”

Betty stifles a laugh, and she can tell Jughead is having a hard time keeping up this act already. “I did no such thing.”

Pop plays along, leaning against the side of the booth nearest her. “Now, now, Mr. Jones. Don’t go accusing people of things they’d _never_ do.”

That only makes him pout more, furrowing his brows until it looks almost painful. 

“Would you like more onion rings, baby?” Betty asks, adding in the pet name just to tease him, though she likes how it rolls off her tongue. 

It’s enough to break his act. As his mouth turns into a smile, he drops his arms and relaxes his shoulders, turning to Pop. “Another serving of onion rings, please.”

Pop nods and smiles at them both before walking off into the back.

“You know,” Betty says as she nibbles a single fry, “onion rings aren’t good first date food.”

He raises his eyebrows and stares at her for a moment. Then, his eyes widen, and he smirks. “Do you kiss on the first date, Betty?”

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

At his reaction—even wider eyes, mouth slightly agape—she realizes her decision is already made. That’s if he’ll have her, of course.

–

Pop brings their serving of onion rings back in just a few minutes. Without a word, he places them in the center of the table with a knowing look, and they both thank him as he walks off. 

Betty dives in first, dipping one in ketchup and shoving it in her mouth. “So good,” she groans as she chews.

With a grin, Jughead follows suit, but he picks up two and a half onion rings and dips them in BBQ sauce. 

“I guess it doesn’t matter if we both have onion breath,” she says matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean?”

She eyes him innocently and shrugs. 

He swallows his mouthful. “ _Oh_. You mean…”

“You’re an idiot.” There’s a distinct fondness to both her voice and her face as she speaks, something she thinks he manages to bring out of her.

“I’d agree with that. And, uh, the other thing too.”

She risks a discreet wink at him before turning back to her food.

Their date—or is it just dinner with a friend?—continues on with casual conversation and laughter. It’s as easy with Jughead, just as it was on the journey here, obviously ignoring that time at the beginning where Betty was super stressed. 

Luckily, she’s significantly less stressed now, especially since they’ve reached Riverdale _and_ are in Pop’s eating their way through too much greasy food. It’s all good, really. And on top of that, it’s Christmas Eve. 

They’re sharing an ice cream sundae when Betty brings it up.

“I can’t believe it’s Christmas tomorrow.”

His eyes flicker from hers to the Coca-Cola clock on the wall. “Now, actually.”

She cranes her neck to look, too. It’s 12:05, and her face lights up in a smile. “Merry Christmas, Jug.”

He smiles bashfully. “Merry Christmas, Betty.”

Letting her eyes flicker around the room, she finds Pop sitting behind the counter, writing away. There’s no one else here, she realizes, probably because of the time, which means she and Jughead should start heading home now. She doesn’t want to, but no doubt Alice Cooper will want her to be up early to help with something or other. 

“Merry Christmas, Pop,” she calls out, waving and grinning at him. “We’ll be out of your hair soon.”

He comes over to them, dragging a stool over and sitting by their booth. “Happy holidays, kids. I hope to see you both again soon.”

“Definitely,” Betty says before she can think twice about it. 

“Tomorrow?” Jughead grins, and Pop laughs.

“Don’t you think I’ve forgotten about your food, Jughead.”

He shakes his head. “Of course not.”

Betty smiles at their interaction. It’s that of a father-son, she thinks. The way they just seem to understand each other perfectly. She wonders if there’s history between them, especially with their Christmas food deal. Maybe it’s something she’ll ask Jughead about it one day, or maybe she’ll let him tell her in his own time. 

She hopes there’s a lot of time left for them. She hopes this will be just the beginning.

The three of them talk about their plans for Christmas day. Betty mentions her family plans being just the three of them this year with Polly stuck out in California, whilst Jughead swerves any conversation referring to his mother. Pop, on the other hand, stays relatively quiet about his own plans, just nodding at theirs. He mentions his granddaughter a couple of times until eventually, he mentions Tabitha coming up from Albany to help him out in the coming days. 

It reaches 12:30, and Betty begins to feel the effects of the long drive. She tries to stifle her second yawn, but Jughead catches on.

“We should get going,” he says, eyes flickering between her and Pop.

“Yeah. Sorry, Pop.”

Nodding, he stands up and scoots the stool across the floor. “I’ve enjoyed having you both here.”

Betty looks over at Jughead, smiles, and back at Pop. “We’ll be back, won’t we?”

Jughead is looking right at her when he answers. “Date number two tomorrow, I hope.”

Pop looks at her, hopeful, and, well, she can’t say no to that, can she?

–

Back in the car, Betty sits in the driver's seat but keeps the engine turned off. She’s not sure why. Maybe she thinks making no effort to move, to take him home, will extend this moment between them. 

They’re lit only by the soft neon glow from the diner’s sign, both facing forward, and surrounded by silence. It’s not awkward, more… thoughtful. 

Betty is the first one to break through the silence.

“This was nice,” she says, though as soon as it comes out, she thinks it sounds stupid. 

Jughead doesn’t seem to agree, turning to her and smiling. “It was more than nice, Betty.” 

She’s struggling to do anything other than smile at the man beside her. 

“I don’t want to go home,” he continues, perhaps in a nervous, rambly sort of way. 

“Me neither,” she whispers. 

He reaches out and rests his hand on her thigh, so she takes the opportunity to thread their fingers together. It’s a brave move, but one she’s immensely glad for when his whole face lights up even more than previously.

“Hi,” he says, and she lets out a breathy laugh.

“Hi.”

“I want to…” he pauses and sighs. “I want to do something potentially stupid.”

_Do it_ , she wants to reply, but she doesn’t get a chance. It’s as if he can read her mind because his lips and on hers, and it’s everything she ever could have wished for despite it being in the parking lot of Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe. 

In fact, she thinks that makes it better, more perfect, because when they pull apart, his face is covered in that familiar red glow that highlights his grin.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” she admits quietly.

“Betty Cooper, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.”

She grins. “I think I do, Jug.”

–

Driving the long way around to the Southside, his hand rests on hers on the shift stick. There’s an air of happiness between them, something Betty never expected to feel when being back in Riverdale, and her Christmas playlist blasts through the speakers, acting as the perfect soundtrack for the last leg of their journey. 

Snow falls around them, too. It feels perfectly wintery, but not in a dangerous, _too much snow_ sort of way. She can still see to drive, and the roads have been plowed, so speeding along the roads of Riverdale has never felt so familiar. 

“I feel like I’m dreaming,” he says. “I never wanted to come back to Riverdale yet being here… it feels good.”

“I know the feeling.” She lets out a happy sigh. “And it’s all down to you.”

He laughs briefly. “Work’s gonna be, uh, _interesting_.”

She hadn’t even thought about that. She sort of just forgot that Jughead is her co-worker and not someone from her hometown. The two overlap in some twisted, serendipitous way of fate, but it could potentially cause a few issues. (Worth it, she thinks.)

“If there is… y’know, something there.”

As she rolls her eyes, she laughs. She realizes he can’t see her reaction, but it doesn’t matter. “Once again, Jughead Jones, you’re an idiot.”

He squeezes her hand and turns the music up.

–

The car rolls to a stop outside Jughead’s house, and Betty turns off the engine. His street on the Southside is nice enough. It’s nicer than the Southside once was, but she knows that’s all thanks to the new and improved mayor. 

Regardless, she can sense Jughead’s reluctance to get out of the car. And she understands it, too. This whole journey together has been a series of ups and downs. From the excessive traffic to getting to know one another, from Pop’s parking lot to the drive through Riverdale, they made it and they made it here together. 

But it’s getting later now. All night, every minute has been edging them closer and closer to this moment, to leaving one another. At first, it seemed like it was going to be a nothing event, but now it feels like _more_. 

Alas, it’s Christmas Day, a day to spend with family and a day to enjoy. They’ll soon be stuck in traffic again on the way back to New York City, ready to work endless hours during the run-up to the new year. They’ll come full circle, but it would’ve been a journey made together. 

“Thank you, Betty,” he whispers as he turns to her. It’s darker now there isn’t a neon red glow covering them, so she can only make out the shadows of his face. It’s more intimate this way, but she can still tell he’s smiling. 

“Anytime,” she says in a teasing manner. “Or, like, in two days’ time.”

She can just about make out his nod. “If you’ll have me.”

“Of course, Jug.” _I’ll always have you._

As he moves his hand to the door handle, he pauses, hesitating. Then his hands are on her face and he’s pulling her towards him and connecting their lips in a firm but short kiss. “Seriously, Betty. Thank you.”

She smiles at him. “Seriously, Jug. Anytime.”

He stamps one final kiss on her lips.

.

.

.

Christmas Day in the Cooper household is always an adventure. It’s loud, filled with excessive festivities, far too much food, and even more alcohol. Even with just the three of them—no Polly, and no extended family—Alice still manages to make the best of the day. And Betty appreciates that. Her family may have had their issues growing up, but coming back here has made her realize how much she truly loves them. 

They get up far too early for Betty’s unexpected late-night, which luckily no one mentions, to exchange gifts in their pajamas. It’s been a Cooper tradition for as long as she can remember, but every gift she opens is paired with a stifled yawn and a long sip of coffee.

Her mother gets her a variety of clothes she’d asked for as well as a knitted bobble hat. She has to hide her persistent smile because her new hat only reminds her of the gray one that sits atop Jughead’s head on more occasions than not. 

Her father gets her a stationery set, including one of those fancy fountain pens she’s wanted for _ages_ and a leather-bound notebook to go with it. She thinks of the book reviews she could write in it, and she thinks of Jughead’s book she one day hopes to review.

Alongside that, both of her parents get her a collection of different books. 

“For you to read and review, honey,” her mom says with a huge smile. 

Betty hugs them both extra tightly.

After gifts comes a small breakfast before an early Christmas lunch slash dinner mid-afternoon. For the whole day, Betty struggles to get Jughead off of her mind. She thinks of him eating endless amounts of Pop’s food and playing shitty games with his sister. Part of her wishes she could be with him today, though she realizes how stupid that is after such a short time of, well, them. She defends herself in her head by reminding herself that it’s been a long time coming for her—and for him, by the sounds of it—so it’s _normal_ for her to feel like this. 

But she’s, surprisingly enough, having a lovely day with her family, so she reminds herself that she’ll see Jughead every day again soon once they’re back in New York City. 

After stuffing herself at dinner, the three of them are lounging around watching a bad Christmas special of a show Alice likes when there’s a knock at the door. 

“Betty, honey, will you get it?” Hal says in his usual calm dad voice.

And so she gets up without a word and plods to the door. Her Christmassy pajamas don’t get a second thought until she opens the door.

“Hey. Nice pajamas.”

“Jughead!” she exclaims, unable to hide her smile or bring herself to care about her outfit. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs. “Merry Christmas.”

She grins. She’s so, so happy. “You said that yesterday,” she weakly argues. She really doesn’t mind. If he came across town just to say that to her, then so be it. 

“I didn’t have time to get you anything but…” he trails off, but as she goes to reply, he’s pulling out a sprig of mistletoe. “But I did get this.”

She steps forward so she’s standing just in front of him, grinning. “I love it.”

He holds it up above their heads. “May I?”

She doesn’t let him answer, cupping his face and meeting his lips with hers. As she pulls back, she takes the mistletoe from his hand and tucks it in her pajama shirt pocket. “Merry Christmas, Jug.”

“And here’s to many more.”

.

.

.

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> yeep. how was that? did yall like it? please let me know your thoughts and feelings in the form of comments and/or kudos.
> 
> as always, thank you for reading.
> 
> merry christmas/happy holidays/happy wednesday. stay safe yall <3


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